Photo Hunt
by Juliette D'Ouverture
Summary: Somehow the secret photos of Sir Dan and Anya are missing from their file. Kingsley Edge sends Juliette out herself to get new.


I sat in my office, minding my own business that was rather profane and not at all what people expect when they think of work in the TH, when my door opened without a knock and my Master strutted in. Without so much as a hello he dropped a file onto my desk.

"What's this?" He folded his arms in front of his chest and looked down at me.

With a quick glance I checked the name on the folder. "It's the file of Sir Dan you asked me to put on your desk this morning, Sir."

"The name was the one useful thing in this whole folder. And here we touch on the things that are missing from the file."

"Missing, mon Maitre?" With quick fingers I skimmed through the reports mon Roi and Mistress Nora had given as well as all the other information I had translated into Haitian Creole before encoding it. "What's missing?"

"The pictures, mon amour. Photos. The only damn thing in these files I can still look at without getting a serious headache."

Never mind what mon Roi needed pictures of Sir Dan for, they should be there, they should be right in this file. They had been in the file when I left it on mon Roi's desk. I skimmed through the file again and of course, no photos. "Mon Roi, I don't understand. They've been in the file … and nobody was in your office … and they didn't just fall out …"

"But they aren't in the file anymore, d'accord mon amour?"

I looked down at my hands and shuck my head in incomprehension. "Non, Monsieur."

"And how do you mean to change this untenable situation?"

"Tomorrow I will-"

"Non, non, non, non. Not tomorrow, today, now."

"Mon Maitre, it is late and there sure isn't anything Sir Dan has done that needs an immediate blackmailing tonight, so –"

"So what? Do you want to imply that your Master is unreasonable?"

Did I think mon Roi acted a bit crazy in this situation? Oh yes. "Mon Maitre, in fact I think-" in this exact moment I looked up and caught the last of his 'you are in for it deep whatever you now say' grin and opted for plan C: Buy time. "In fact I don't think that you are unreasonable, just the payment that private investigators ask for jobs on such short notice are."

"You are right, mon ange, we shouldn't waste that kind of money on these cutthroats," mon Roi nodded. "You will need to get the photos we need yourself tonight."

My big, dark eyes almost fell out of their sockets. "But mon Maitre, it's almost dark outside and I don't even know what Sir Dan is doing this evening or where I would find him!"

Mon Roi waved with his hand through air while he turned to leave. "He is at this estate of his out in the countryside with Anya of course. If I were you I'd hurry or it will be midnight before you get there."

As soon as I was alone in my office again I swore whatever Creole, French and English curses came to my mind. I knew I was a pawn in one of mon Roi's games. But what game would excuse sending me shortly before nightfall on a wild goose photo hunt into the middle of nowhere and never seen again? And how the heck did one take hidden photos?

Whatever. I sight and locked Sir Dan's file into the file cabinet. It might not be complete anymore, but the information in it was still explosive. Then I got carefully dressed in a simple, but flexible black knitted dress and my most sturdy leather boots which could easily compete with mon Roi's signature riding boots. For a moment I considered searching the TH for a camera and equipment. The idea threw me in a giggle fit. I wasn't the ex-spy in the family. Whatever I would be lucky enough to get in front of my lens could be captured just fine with my cell phone camera. So, I left the house and headed towards the countryside in my little hybrid Mini with my cell phone, a lock pick set which once had been a present from Nora, and a small dagger hidden in my boot – one never knew.

It was about six thirty when the fences of Sir Dan's property finally came into sight. I had heard the stories connected with this house, but I had never been here myself. I turned off my lights as I rolled the last meters towards the gates. As silently as possible I sneaked up to the house and went around it once in an attempt to orientate myself. I saw a couple of lit windows and a backdoor opening to a back porch area that was also lit by a porch light and several candles in glasses. Anya was such a romantic and being from Canada she had no sense of temperature whatsoever. Who would care for the back door patio when where was damn snow on the ground?

I caught a glimpse of Sir Dan walking past the window next to the backdoor and my heart started beating up my throat as for a long moment I thought he had seen me too. Then I remembered that he had looked out from the light into the dark and what he most probably had seen was a lit porch with a wall of dark behind it. Still, I went deeper into the darkness as I followed his path through the house until I found him in another window, this time nailing Anya to the fridge and kissing her deeply while his hands wandered up her legs and under her little skirt. With his feet and knee he spread her legs further and… I almost forgot what I had come to do, so enthralled was I by this innocent play unfolding in front of my voyeuristic eyes. I searched for a way between the shrubs and young trees which created a barrier towards the windows all the while searching for my phone in my pockets. Sir Dan had meanwhile nibbled his way down Anya's throat and was in the process to lift her up and drape her onto the next best kitchen surface.

I had my phone out and at the ready to snap away when a large hand covered my mouth from behind and pressed me against a strong body. The other hand reached for my wrists. In my surprise I sent the phone flying into the next bush. When my mind set in again and formed somewhat coherent thoughts I tried to reach down to my boot for the dagger. In another thought I tried to kick out and pull the hand from my face. I could still see Sir Dan now giving Anya's pussy a thorough inspection – with what I assumed was his tongue as instrument of choice. They were so close. One scream of mine would alert them to my presence and what was going on.

"Just you fight, mon amour," his voice purred into my ear and I was able to see his smile grow wider by the second in my head. Knowing who held me, taking him now in with all my sense – his smell, his feel, his sounds so familiar and loved – didn't break through my panic. It just managed that arousal washed over me and mixed with the fear to a simmering, bubbling, highly potential potion that made my attempts to flee even rougher and more uncoordinated until my hands were tied to a branch with my scarf, my mouth gagged with your gloves and my body flushed against the edgy bark of a wide and cold tree.

One hand at the nap of my neck, mon Roi bent down to check my boot which I had desperately tried to reach. With quick fingers he retrieved my dagger. Of course he had known where to look, because he had taught me to use and hide it.

"Look what we have got here," there was a hint of pride in his voice that filtered through my skin like the rays of the sun, warming my core.

But I wasn't done fighting yet. In my head I was still at another place, at another time, with another man and the situation was real. And I hated and feared the man. And I panicked when he pushed my skirt up and my panties out of the way.

I kicked out and landed a hit on his shin. It earned me a squeeze of my neck, mon Roi's fingers digging deep into my skin and I winced into my gage.

"Now, now, ma lionne." His knee pushed between my legs and my dress slide up to my waist. My tights ripped and I could feel the cold metal of my own dragger on the naked skin of my ass. In a last attempt I tried to shake mon Roi off and wiggle my ways out of my ties and my gage. But there was no escape. My heart beat was off any charts. I could hear its staccato thumping in my ears as the knife twisted and my panties, the last barrier between my sex and the cold winter night, fell apart into pieces.

Shortly after the dagger fell to the ground with a thud. It didn't help to calm me one bit as immediately after that mon Roi's fingers penetrated the ocean of wetness my soft flesh had melted into.

"Mon amour, I love it when you are so ready for me." A little kick left and right sent my feet further apart. And as I sank down a little, his fingers sank a little deeper still into me. He teased me and all I wanted was to scream. This mix of adrenaline from the fear and pheromones and whatever other –mones were rushing through my veins was stronger than anything I knew or had ever experienced. It drove me crazy with need and desire as well as the antipodal yearning to take off and flee. And all the while all I could do was take because even my screams were muffled.

Mon Roi used his one free hand to play with me, to tease my clit, to tug my lips, to caress my cunt up to the depth of my core, to pinched the skin of my folds. It was sweet, sweet agony that let shivers run up and down my body in ever shorter intervals. Then he included my butt. He dipped his fingers into my fluids like in a water bucket before taking a quick run up and around my other orifice, teasing its rim and back down. Again and again he repeated this path until my wetness netted the whole area. Once this was archived he dipped his fingers in quick exchange from one hole to the other, widening both each time he passed a little wider.

When where was room for three fingers the heat of my tip of my thighs stood out from the ice cold feel of the surrounding area like a flame burning in an ice cube. My cries had calmed own to whimpers not that it made much of a difference with the gloves in my mouth. My muscles quivered from the confusion controversial commands – everything from running to melt and enjoy – had drowned them in. I was at two places at once and at the same time almost gone as a powerful orgasm waited just millimeters under my goosebumped skin.

And that was then I heard mon Roi's fly open releasing his manhood in all its pride length and width. With one powerful move that didn't allow for any prisoners it speared me from behind till I could feel his balls slap at my butt. My eyes widened under the intensity of the sensation it gave me being filled by mon Roi's cock from the back while his fingers had hooked into my cunt and pushed me toward him from the front.

It took just a few thrusts and a little tease of my clit with the thumb until I broke into million shreds that burnt like sparks in the cold winter air. I could tell that mon Roi followed me swiftly. His hot gift he sprayed into me was the glue that put the pieces that were me back together.

When I hung panting in mon Roi's arms still glowing from the petite mort I just lived through I was back just in one place, with one man who loved me and went to lengths to show it to me. He untied me. After he pulled the gloves from my mouth covering my lips in a myriad of kisses I removed the remains of my thighs cleaning myself off with the rags.

"Let me look at you, mon ange." Mon Maitre tipped my chin up and I could almost feel his eyes wandering down my body, checking my appearance. "You're in any shape for our dinner date?"

"We have a dinner date?"

"Oui, with Dan and Anya."

"And you couldn't just have told me like a normal person?"

"What would have been the fun in that?"

I nodded not knowing what else to do. I was in love with the craziest French Master the world has ever produced. Well, going by the glow of Anya when she opened the door her Master might come close. But he wasn't French.


End file.
